


Remember

by cadkitten



Category: Dir en grey, Ka • Za • Ri, X JAPAN
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Character Death, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-22
Updated: 2008-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:46:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I always looked up to him - my mentor, my savior, my lover. Reflections of the past, shadowed over with time. Something's missing and there's nothing I can do to replace it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Current parts are Dir en grey era. Past reflections are Ka • Za • Ri era.  
> Done for the modified drabble / short fic meme.  
> Song: "Lose It" by Atreyu

I always looked up to him - my mentor, my savior, my lover. It's hard when I get like this, when I fall off the fringes of reality and land myself right back into hell. I know I shouldn't let myself dwell on what I cannot change, what I could _never_ have changed. And, yet, I feel as though I could have done something differently to make it all okay.

Maybe if I'd been stronger, he wouldn't be gone. Or maybe it was he who needed to be stronger, better, more in touch with how things really were. Whatever the truth, I only know how much it still hurts. Even after all these years, it burns a hollow ache deep inside of me.

I used to cry, but now I just sit and stare numbly at the guitar in my hands, my fingers moving uselessly in a tune I'll never finish. Flawless notes filled with my own internal agony and the remembrance of something sweet enough it could have all been a dream. I fall back into it, my fingers knowing the path they were taught so long ago. Melody flowing out of me, spilling my insides across the carpet. Bloody trails smudged across a glass window as I plead for escape.

Reflections of the past, shadowed over with time. The images have become hazy with age, but the emotions couldn't be any clearer. I still feel for him what I felt from the very first moment I met him. Think me crazy, but it's completely possible to be in love with the past. I'm aware of the uselessness of my feelings, but I can't let go.

My fingers are stuck on repeat. My body's stuck in limbo; breath clogged in my throat, choking me away. Everything feels numb and heavy, yet my hands move smoothly over the red surface, eternally playing his song. Something I wrote for him and he'll never know.

The ache settles even lower, causing a sick feeling to begin low in my abdomen. I swallow thickly against it, knowing the memories will come to the surface any moment, unbidden and unwanted, but oh so familiar. If I could forget him, I would. If I could move forward, I wouldn't be stuck in a rut. If I could be more than I am, I could do so much more with my life.

As it stands, I'm less than I could be: second best and overshadowed. But something's missing and there's nothing I can do to replace it. He took it with him when he died, yanking it free from inside of me and never letting go. I'm but half the man I used to be.

My eyelids slip shut and I'm confronted with his image, red hair and a smile made of solid gold. Slim fingers beckon me and I step away from the present and right into the past. His arms enfold me and his lips caress my neck as he speaks to me, telling me how much he loves me and how much everything will change in a few weeks.

I feel like someone's yanked me in eighty directions at once and then we're standing in the middle of hide's bedroom, his arms around me and my body devoid of any clothing. His fingers are teaching me everything I know, showing me how to play the sweetest melody in existence. I tremble at his touch, my body aching for more than he's providing.

The scene blurs and then comes back to focus and now I'm on his bed, crying out in pleasure as he presses into me, over and over. His fingers play me like the finest instrument, still teaching me to be all that I am today. My body arches up and I release my life into his hands, my voice ringing clear in the tiny room.

Here, there, gone, and again. I'm against the wall of Yoshiki's kitchen, one hand clamped over my own mouth as he teaches me another form of art. His eyes watch me from under a shock of red hair, his mouth full of my cock.

A noise, a slight disturbance in the air surrounding us, and I lift my head to find the drummer watching us, pain written clearly across his face, anger boiling just below the surface. I can't hold back and I'm spilling over the edge, right under his watchful gaze.

The feeling of agony in my stomach increases and my fingers come to rest lightly on the strings of my guitar. It's all so much when it comes right down to it. hide stole my heart and soul, hiding it away in a twisted lie, leaving Yoshiki in the dust, confused and in pain. I never meant to hurt anyone, I never even knew until that night. How was I to know what they had, what I was killing with my every action?

Yet, I know he never blamed me for his lover's actions. The blame could only fall on the shoulders of the one who omitted a truth and he understood that.

My fingers trace lightly over the polished surface of my guitar and then slide off the edge, falling onto red leather and gently stroking in memory. He gave me this, just weeks before he.... It came in a box, no return address, only a single piece of paper telling volumes. Something for me, a memory, devoid of the ache he knew he'd caused. Just a piece of his past meant to become a piece of my future. The words scrawled so elaborately across a scrap piece of paper, half of his shopping list on the other side... an afterthought.

_Remember all that I've taught you. Hold it close and move forward._

I hang my head, my own bright red hair falling to cover my face as the sheer pain overwhelms me. The physical ache and the emotional combine and force their way out in a low keening from my throat. I grasp both the material of my outfit and the neck of my instrument in a grip meant for death.

A hand slides over my back and comes to rest on my shoulder, gently pulling me back against its owner. I lose it, allowing the edges to fall away as I throw myself over the cliff of sanity. I hurtle downward at full speed, the ground coming up fast - and warm arms enfold me. I gasp for air, shaking as I cling to my savior.

A change, a shift in balance. Someone with the knowledge of the past, giving as much as they can, no matter the anguish my presence causes them. I'm a part of a memory and a part of a future. I'm his substitute and he's mine. That's all that we can be. This is all our shining star left us with. Such a sickening comfort is this.... Two empty shells, left to fall into the abyss together.

**The End**  



End file.
